


Gordon in Wonderland

by MorallyDraconequus



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I'll add more characters as this goes along, International engines from the Great Race, Too lazy to write all of their names, alice in wonderland parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:46:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorallyDraconequus/pseuds/MorallyDraconequus
Summary: The Sudurian Gresley engine, Gordon believes himself to be a sophisticated and logical engine, thus, he is supposed to be much wiser and sensible than other engines. Gordon's logic, dignity and sanity is put to the test after the pompous engine chases after a 'rabbit' and finds himself on an adventure in Wonderland. (Parody of Alice in Wonderland, based on the novel and 1951 film)





	1. Down Ballahoo Tunnel

Chapter 1: Down Ballahoo Tunnel

Gordon began to feel very exhausted as he pulled into Knapford Station. It was a lazy summer day, when the cold air provided relief after staying in the Sun’s rays.

 

He rolled his eyes as soon as he heard the E2 ranting on about having an exciting adventure beyond Sodor. Thomas had experienced a few such adventures already but Gordon couldn’t simply imagine it. After all, big engines don’t have time for dreaming about such nonsense.

 

Perhaps it was simply his age. After all, he was almost a century old.

 

‘What’s the point of having big adventures when there’s an important job to do? Perhaps Thomas hasn’t understood the importance of pulling the express yet.’

To tell the truth, trips to the mainland no longer excited Gordon. They felt too ordinary to the grand express engine. It could, in fact, have been that Gordon simply did not comprehend what an 'adventure’ was, but Gordon was much more mature than Thomas. Surely, he was wiser than the young tank engine.

 

His crew was on break, leaving the big blue engine having some time to rest before he had to pull the Express again. Gordon was more than eager to take a short nap. To his misfortune, a blur of green rushed passed him, startling the drowsy tender engine awake.

 

“Oh no, I’m late! I better hurry!” the figure exclaimed. Gordon recognised the engine to be Percy but he looked different. The saddle-tank’s paintwork was adorned with more gold and ruby hearts in addition to the standard red and yellow stripes, and its design, including the six, came off as more formal and intricate. Percy had what seemed to be a pocket watch attached to his buffers, though Gordon wasn’t sure how or why. What seemed to be the silliest feature on the engine was that he wore bunny ears on his smokebox, along with a fuzzy tail on the back on his bunker.

 

Furious, Gordon chased after Percy for an explanation, and also to complain about him interrupting Gordon's well-deserved rest. Despite this, Percy somehow managed to outrun Gordon, which shouldn’t be possible. Gordon was one of the fastest engines on Sodor. He applied his brakes when Percy entered Ballahoo tunnel without any sound.

 

The big blue engine decided to be rational about it, debating whether he should or shouldn’t enter the tunnel. After seeing Percy’s odd appearance, Gordon feared that whatever force changed the number 6 into what he had saw had altered the tunnel as well.

 

“Don’t be such a Henry, Gordon,” he muttered to himself, “It’s only a tunnel. What’s the worst that can happen-” His words suddenly became undignified screams as the tunnel’s rails vanished from under him, and he plummeted into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

It was pitch black and the unfortunate engine could barely see anything, to the point that he was uncertain if he could even feel tracks beneath his wheels.

 

Time was also starting to concern Gordon, as a large amount of time had passed. It was either that it was a very long drop... or that the large express engine had been falling slowly, despite his weight.

 

According to Gordon’s logic, he would reach the end soon, or he'd actually reached it a while ago.

 

Nevertheless, he used the given time to ponder. What was at the end of the tunnel? Would there be a light, like the saying? Or would he continue to be trapped in an endless cycle of falling?

Since there was no one around - or so he hoped - he talked to himself, in order to fill in the empty void with something.

 

“What will the others think while I’m stuck here?” Gordon wondered, “The Fat Controller would have to find another engine to pull the express. But would he actually buy another engine to just replace me? I hope not. He’d be sure to recognise that I have a grand value, not only that I’m an old engine.”

 

“Who would replace me anyway? Henry would take the express, but then someone would have to take his job. James would do Henry’s job… but then who would replace James? It could be Emily, but then who would do her job?”

 

Gordon began to make a very long list of who would replace who while he was away, which included every engine he knew on Sodor and some friends from beyond the Island. However, when he repeated it, he was already confused. He only got through a quarter of list.

 

“Thomas would take over Percy’s job, Duck would take over Thomas’ job… or was it Daisy doing Thomas’ job? Or Daisy doing Duck’s job? Or the other way around? Who did Diesel replace? Thomas’ or Duck’s job? Was it Victor or Spencer replacing him? But Spencer is doing Edward’s job and Victor doesn’t really leave the Steamworks that often… wait, was Donald doing Edward’s job or was it Douglas? Oh bother, I give up!” Huffed Gordon.

 

“You might as well just call an engine from the mainland to handle the express instead of replacing engines in a big mess.”

 

The engine was frustrated that the complicated system he had created couldn’t solve a problem that the simple answer could. It almost surprised him that Gordon could entertain himself with naming who would do who’s job. If Thomas or Percy or any younger, naive engines had this thought, it would appear normal for them to think like that. But for Gordon, it was very degrading. He would rather recite something more sensible, words like ‘eminence’, ‘extravagant’ and ‘elusive’. Others would find his vocabulary too formal and purple prose-like but Gordon thought that they were rather grand words to say, as if he were a gentleman from decades ago. Gordon liked to play around with vocabulary, like the more formal people on the island. Even though he didn't say them out loud very often.

 

What he also liked to use was logic. Logic was such a fine thing to use. You could use its basic rules to determine the solution and as a sharp weapon in the battle of wits. If there was anything that Gordon liked other than his dignity, speed, strength, and the express, then Gordon would just simply like logic and vocabulary.

 

The hole that he was falling through, however, Gordon didn’t like it. His logic didn’t agree with it either.

 

“I really should’ve reached the bottom by-” with a loud ‘clang’, Gordon grunted and found himself on rails once again. They went straight through a long passage, and at the end Gordon caught a glimpse of Percy racing down the tracks. “Oh dear! Oh my! I’ll be very late!” Percy cried.

“Percy! Wait up! I have a few words to say to you!” yelled Gordon, as he started to chuff down the line to catch up to the small engine.


	2. A Cloud of Steam, plus a toy engine.

Gordon puffed his way into a room, with Percy nowhere to be seen. The room was gigantic. If Cranky were in the room, he would be too short to reach the ceiling. The size was - according to Gordon’s estimation - 10 Crankys high and 10 Crankys wide. Gordon would think that the crane would be honoured to have a unit of measurement named after him and based on his height… or maybe he would scold at Gordon for not using a measurement system that was already created and prepared.

 

“He should appreciate that I came up with a clever idea to measure great distances. Some people can't even imagine how long a kilometer is or a thousand meters without knowing what a metre looks like. A Cranky is so much simpler to envision in your mind. It's foolproof!” Gordon's voice echoed, mimicking his sentences.

 

There were multiple of doors, however, they were either bricked or boarded up. Gordon did not want a repeat of an accident he wasn't proud of. The only open exit was tiny, just big enough for a rat to crawl through. Gordon decided to be sensible and not demolish the wall. The problem was, how he would leave the room in order to chase after Percy?

 

There was a coal tower in the middle of the room. Its sign read ‘Burn me’. Gordon was sure that the coal in the tower was meant to be burnt. Gordon filled up his tender by the coal tower, as he had probably lost some coal during the fall.

 

After only five seconds and Gordon felt like the room was getting bigger. “How strange!” muttered Gordon, “At this rate, I'll be the size of a toy engine!” His prediction was was a bit off, he was much smaller than a toy train. 

 

“Oh the indignity, if the others were here, they would laugh at me. ‘Who's the small engine now?’ Thomas would say.” 

 

Gordon couldn't fit on the tracks anymore, but he was able to move without them. How peculiar! His size now allowed to pass through the tiny door, though he was still small compared to it. But suddenly, the door slammed shut.

 

“How am I meant to pass through now?” Gordon tried to bash the door open, but due to his size he was too weak. 

 

Gordon saw a plaque on the door that held the following formulae:

* * *

 

_ Coal > water = shrinks.  _

_ Water > coal = grows. _

* * *

He spotted a water tower smaller than the coal tower, with a sign that said ‘Boil me’. “Well, steam engines have to boil water to make steam,” concluded Gordon, “and I'm a steam engine afterall.”

Though, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to use it without the help of humans. 

 

Nevertheless, he went under the water tower. An odd lever that stuck out opened the lid for his boiler and the hose conveniently secured itself and began to pour water. At first, Gordon was shocked, but he relaxed at the feeling of cool water filling up his boiler. 

 

With his boiler full, Gordon hoped that he would grow to a size able to push the door. Unfortunately, he read the last bit of the plaque just this moment. To be fair, it was in tiny font.

* * *

_ ‘Update: For every load of coal you will shrink and depending on how much water, your size will change either way as time passes. The formulae above is outdated. In other words, it’s hard to predict what happens next. Sorry for the inconvenience. _

  1. _The coal burns for a very, very long time._



* * *

In three seconds, Gordon grew so much that he was as long as 9.8 Crankys. 

 

“Curioser and curioser! Wait, that doesn’t sound right. I might as well forget the rest of my good vocabulary!” 

 

Gordon believed that maybe if he had more coal, he’d might shrink down a bit. To his despair, the coal tower was crushed under the big engine’s weight. Then again, Gordon would be too big to use it anyway.

 

“Now James would say ‘You’re literally too big for the rails, Gordon! You could crush Tidmouth instead of being stuck on the turntable.’”

Gordon wheeshed steam due to his anger over all the humiliation the other engines would give him.

“If there’s an engine destined to destroy Tidmouth, it would be James.”

 

In no time at all, the room was filled with steam. His face was bright red from both his anger, and the temperature of the room. The pressure of the steam busted the tiny door open.

 

All of the water in his boiler had evaporated, and soon, Gordon shrunk back down to his previous size.

 

The now miniature engine braced for impact, however, there was none. Gordon was floating upon the steam he created, as it flew through the door and carried him up to the sky.

 


	3. A familiar face at a Caucas race

Gordon remembered that one time Thomas wanted to fly. Well, Gordon could clearly state that he hated his experience of flying, and flying in general.

  


“I have no idea how Harold can get used to this. I'd rather be stuck on rails than this horrid flying.”

  


The cloud was getting bigger and turning into a dark grey tone. The tiny blue engine - Gordon would prefer big instead of tiny but it didn't seem appropriate in this situation - felt a drop of rain on his face. In fact, his body felt like he was soaked in water.

  


“If the steam is water that is evaporated, it'll be light enough to form a cloud. If the cloud becomes heavy so will the steam and soon, it’ll turn back into water. Which will mean it will rain soon… and I'll fall along with the rain!”

  


As he deduced, Gordon began to drop down.

Unlike the hole, Gordon could tell that it wouldn't be such a long fall... but a much harder landing.

  


Instead of cold, hard earth that would shatter Gordon into pieces - do note that Gordon’s imagination had got the better of him - he landed on fluffy pile of feathers. The pile was actually a bird, however Gordon wasn’t even sure what species it was.

  


The bird squawked in surprise, causing Gordon to fall onto the ground. Luckily, he landed perfectly on his wheels but Gordon couldn't say that he’d felt any pain. The bird wasn’t as lucky. Distracted, it crashed - not very gracefully - on to the ground. Having realised that he didn’t rely on tracks at the moment, Gordon chuffed up to the animal. His friends barely see Gordon’s sympathetic side, but those feelings did exist in Gordon.

  


“Are you alright?” he asked, hoping for any sign of life. He would feel very guilty if there were none, but it wasn’t entirely his fault.

  


“I was, until you crashed into me!” snapped the bird as it struggled to retain its posture. It appeared to be an eagle with navy and indigo feathers but the voice - particularly his accent - made it very easy for Gordon to identify.

  


“Vinnie?!” gasped Gordon. The eagle was indeed some version of the North-American engine from the Great Railway Show. He wasn’t too familiar with Vinnie, but he had heard enough from the other engines. Specifically Thomas and Phillip, who weren’t too fond of the bully.

  


The rude bird only responded with a wary eye, staring at Gordon.

  


“What are you?” demanded Vinnie. If he had asked ‘Who are you?’ instead of ‘What are you?’, Gordon wouldn’t be so offended. “What am I? Pardon me, but would you like it if I asked the same question in that tone? I would’ve said that you’re a brainless buffalo with those manners!”

  


“How dare you call me a brainless buffalo, you insect!” growled Vinnie - though Gordon wasn’t sure how birds could growl. The eagle’s shadow surrounded the tiny engine as Vinnie prepared to attack. “You’ll pay for that.”

  


Before Gordon could move, Vinnie was suddenly smacked away to the side, causing another embarrassing fall.

  


“Vinnie! How many times do I have to tell you to be nice?”

  


The creature that saved Gordon was an magenta elephant with floral decorations, which reminded him of another engine from the Great Railway Show.

  


“Ashima?”

  


The elephant smiled gently at Gordon, as if to calm down a frightened and shy animal. Gordon was more confused than frightened.

  


“Well, what’s your name little one?” Ashima asked politely. However, Gordon didn’t like being labeled ‘little’.

“My name is Gordon. And if you wish to know what I am, I’m a steam engine.” Gordon explained, so that there was no misunderstanding.

  


“A steam engine?” asked Vinnie, who was recovering from a hard fall, “You looked like a funny caterpillar to me. Why are you so small? And how did you hit me in the sky?”

  


Vinnie was going to make a further remark, but he saw Ashima raised her trunk as if she warning the bird to choose his words carefully, and he was wise enough to not say anymore.

  


“I’m actually very big in my real size,” explained Gordon, “Apparently, I shrink or grow depending on how much water I have in my boiler. And right now, my boiler is empty.”

  


“Ah, then I can help.” Ashima placed her trunk in a nearby lake to suck up the water. She then withdrew it and sprayed Gordon with water, being careful not to make the tiny engine fly away with too much force.

  


Gordon did not appreciate how his boiler had been filled, but grateful for the kind action; he remained silent. 

  


Gordon’s boiler wasn’t very full, but he grew until he was half of Ashima’s height. He decided that his current size would have to do for now, but was glad that he was bigger than Vinnie. At least he could have some dignity. The eagle was not intimidated whatsoever. 

  


“Well, we better hurry to the meeting.” said Ashima. “We’re not bringing  _ him _ along, are we?” grumpily asked Vinnie. Gordon did not like that he was referred in such a grim tone.

  


“We might as well Vinnie. Flying Dodo might want to meet Gordon.” reasoned Ashima.

“Who?” 

“Some flightless bird who’s somehow in charge of our meetings,” explained Vinnie, “If they had to pick a leader they should’ve chose me.” 

‘I can see why they didn’t.’ thought Gordon. “If he can’t fly, why is he called ‘Flying Dodo’?” 

“He’s actually very fast, surprisingly. He believes that he flies because of the wind rushing through his feathers, thus, he won’t respond to any other name except ‘Flying Dodo’.” Ashima answered.

  


When the three arrived to the supposed meeting, there were a number of animals who resembled competitors from the Great Railway Show. 

  


Axel of Belgium was a lion with black fur and a red mane with yellow streaks. 

  


Carlos of Mexico was a silver and black hawk. 

  


Etienne appeared to be a blue rooster with a white and red crest. 

  


Frieda, like Vinnie, was an eagle except that she had blue feathers that have a yellow tip at the ends. 

Beside Frieda was a small green wolf, Gordon assumed that the wolf was Gina. 

  


A huge, bulky bear with red and blue fur with white stripes seemed similar to the Russian engine, Ivan.

  


A peacock with blue feathers and white, orange and green tail was wearing a crown identical to Rajiv’s.

Raul of Brazil seemed to be another big cat - probably a Jaguar - with yellow, green and blue fur. The fur colour made it hard for Gordon to tell what exactly Raul was.

  


The Australian engine, Shane, was a gold and green emu - though Gordon expected him to be a kangaroo.

  


Yong Bao clearly stood out the most, he was a Chinese dragon with scales matching the colours of his paintwork.

  


A silver kestrel - who Gordon recognised as his cousin, Spencer - glared at him.

  


“Ashima, Vinnie, what have you brought here?” Spencer questioned with distaste. Gordon was not happy being referred as ‘what’ rather than ‘who’ again.

  


“I’m-” “I do not recall asking you to speak!” interrupted Spencer. He was as rude and pompous as Vinnie! Gordon wondered if the other engines saw Gordon as the screechy silver bird.

  


“Ignore Spencer, he always acts as if he’s in charge without Flying Dodo around,” pardoned Ashima, “He is a steam engine named Gordon. He changes size depending on how much water he has consumed. Vinnie and I found him while we were on our way here.”

  


“Though I suggested we abandoned him first.” muttered Vinnie. This did not escape Ashima’s ears.

  


“After I stopped you from attacking poor Gordon! He ran out of water and you tried to attack him whilst he was so small!”

  


This caused a commotion amongst the herd.

  


“Silence! What is all the fuss about?” 

  


They all went silent as a new creature joins them. Gordon knew that voice immediately. “It can’t be him.”

  


The creature is revealed to be a vermillion dodo who strode in with such confidence that even Spencer and Vinnie had shut their beaks.

  


“Flying Scotsman?!” exclaimed Gordon. The dodo chuckled at Gordon’s shocked expression. “Flying ‘Dodo’, dear lad. A pleasure to meet you, little Gordon.”

  


Gordon was aware that the water in his boiler diminished by quite a lot, to the point he had shrunk down to be three quarters of Flying Dodo’s height. It had either been a long journey, or the water evaporated faster than usual.

  


“Excuse me, but I do not take being called ‘little’ very kindly.” “My apologies! And what’s this about Vinnie trying to attack our innocent friend?”

  


Vinnie straightened up. “He fell from the sky and the vile little thing crashed into me!” 

  


“It was by accident! If I had control of my landing, I wouldn’t have crashed into you at all.” rebutted Gordon.

  


“He’s anything but innocent! He called me ‘bird-brain’! He’s guilty!” Vinnie claimed.

  


The members who had wings gasped at the word, ‘bird-brain’. Gordon was very certain he said ‘brainless buffalo’ instead.

  


“If anyone’s guilty, it’s you for attacking another animal,” scoffed Flying Dodo, Gordon decided to let the fact that he was not an animal to slide, “I made this very clear every meeting. ‘All animals are equal. All animals are our friends and allies. No animal should harm another on purpose.’”

  


“But let’s not forget that ‘Bird-brain’ is a very awful insult to those who have wings.” reminded Frieda. “Almost like a crime.” said Shane. “It is crime!” cried Rajiv. “A crime indeed!” added Carlos. “Hear, hear!” agreed Etienne.

  


‘The nerve of him!’ thought Gordon as he saw a hidden smile on Vinnie. ‘He’s trying to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit!’

  


“Is this true, Gordon?” queried the dodo, “If it is, I’m afraid we will have to punish those who commit crimes.”

  


“Actually, he didn’t,” interrupted Ashima, “Mind you that I have very good hearing and Gordon did not insult Vinnie with that horrid slur. But I did hear him say a ‘brainless bull’.”

  


“I think we could let that slide,” said Ivan. “Bulls aren’t very bright so that statement is true.”

“And by the looks of this, said statement was used as a line of defence.” spoke Axle.

“Which justifies the statement.” included Yong Bao.

“But Vinnie’s charges shouldn’t be dismissed.” uttered Raul.

“Time to announce the verdict, Flying Dodo.” responded Gina.

  


“Well then, by this testimony of Ashima the elephant, I announce Gordon the steam engine innocent and our new comrade. Vinnie the bald eagle, however, is found guilty of attacking another creature on purpose.” concluded Flying Dodo.

  


Spencer swooped in front of Flying Dodo and landed on Gordon’s funnel, much to his disdain.

“If I may Flying Dodo,” spoke the kestrel, “I’m afraid that Vinnie has some anger issues, thus he wasn’t in his right mind. The proper solution is to help him control his temper and in order to do that, you need to pardon him first.”

  


“It seems that you’re right,” agreed Flying Dodo, “By this testimony of Spencer the kestrel, Vinnie the bald eagle is pardoned.”

  


The rest rolled their eyes and sighed as if this had happened frequently. Gordon could see that Vinnie and Spencer were partners in crime, easily fooling the dodo who wasn’t a smart creature.

  


“Well, that’s settled. Back to the agenda-” Gordon blew his whistle, frightening Spencer as he cried in shock and fluttered off Gordon’s funnel. “Whoops! Forgot you were sitting there, Spencer.” Everyone but Vinnie and Spencer laughed at the embarrassed silver kestrel who haughtily walked on the ground. “Forgotten, my tail feathers.” Spencer mumbled angrily.

  


“Anyways, time to make a note of those who aren’t present today,” said Flying Dodo, 

“Shankar the tiger.” “He sends his apologies but he has to help take care of the cubs with Noor Jehan.” replied Rajiv.

  


“Tamika the Koala.” “She’s had a rough day so I decided to let her sleep in. She’s nocturnal after all.” spoke Shane. “Aubrey and Aiden the wallabies and Isla the cockatoo couldn’t make either.”

  


“Hong Mei the Ibis.” “Hong Mei, Lei the crane, An An and Yin-Long the pandas were slowed down by a recent storm. They send their regards.” reported Yong Bao.

  


“And I of course have come in the place of Beau the Bison.” said Vinnie.

  


“The last animal who isn’t present is Hiro the pheasant.” “We haven’t heard anything from him,” answered Ashima. 

  


“He’s probably hanging around with that old barn owl in the forest,” muttered Spencer, “This owl himself prefers to not come at all. Vinnie and I barely got his name because of his silly mind games and riddles, only Hiro was able to coax him out. Though we almost never see him outside of the forest.”

  


“Very well,” continued the dodo, “This weather has been very odd lately, it has rained longer than usual and we’re all still dripping with water.”

  


Gordon knew that the ‘odd weather’ was from his own doing but remained quiet.

  


“We’ll have to come up with something to dry ourselves. And no Rajiv, you won’t be reciting that long poem about the crown on your head for us to hear until we’re dry. We all know how you found it.”

  


The peacock slumped sadly. 

  


“How did he find that crown?” Gordon whispered to Ashima. “He got caught by some thieves but escaped with the crown and he calls that poem ‘The Grand and Wide Tale’ which was named after his own tail.”

  


“I’ve got it!” announced Flying Dodo, “We’ll have a caucus race! This will definitely help us dry ourselves. And there will be a prize for the winner!”

  


The interests of the herd had perked up, especially Gordon. In no time at all, everyone was waiting behind the line until the caucus race started. Though, Gordon had no idea what the dodo meant by a ‘caucus’ race. Gordon heard the word once when he overheard a conversation about politics once but what did it have to do with races, he wondered.

  


Thankfully, Ashima filled more water into his boiler so that he was big enough to race, slightly smaller than his original height but it would have to do. Racing was a part of Gordon’s interests, he did admit that he liked to show off once in a while. Obviously, Spencer and Vinnie would be trying to beat Gordon at his own game, as he could tell from the glares they shot him.

  


“Ready, set, go!” cried Flying Dodo. On cue, Gordon chuffed as fast as he can, building up on speed. He was half-way to the finish line and didn’t see any other racers come past him.

  


“This is such an easy race!” Gordon muttered under his breath. But then he saw the progress of the others.

  


Some were jogging, a few were simply prancing about while chatting and the rest hadn’t even crossed the line yet! They were all going at whatever pace and went whenever they fancied, as if they didn’t care much about getting first place. Flying Dodo was riding upon Ashima’s back and she didn’t even mind. “The wind is flowing through my feathers,” he spoke to Ashima, “I’m flying!” “Yes you are, I can easily see that.” agreed Ashima, who was too kind to point out the truth.

  


“What on earth…” Gordon was stunned at the sight and slowed down due to the lack of competition in this race. “Maybe this is what he meant by a ‘caucus’ race.” The engine mumbled.

  


Taking Gordon by surprise, a blur of blue and silver rushed passed him. “See you at the finish line, insect.” mocked Vinnie while Spencer chortled like an entitled, wealthy snob. Gordon had seen many ‘snobs’ in his younger years, ignoring the fact that he used to act like one when he was much younger.

  


Vinnie’s insult brought Gordon’s attention to his own size, he was shrinking so much. “I must have used a lot of water! I can’t let them win but refilling my boiler will take too much time. When my water runs out, I’ll be too slow!” Coincidentally, Ashima and Flying Dodo were by Gordon’s side, aware of his dilemma. “You can always catch a ride with us.” suggested Ashima. “A wonderful idea! Climb aboard Gordon! You can fly with me!” added Flying Dodo.

  


Gordon had concocted a plan to beat the two birds at their own game.

  


“Fly… Ashima, grab me with your trunk and throw me towards the finish line as far and as hard as you can.”

  


The pink elephant was puzzled but complied. “Are you sure about this? You might get hurt.” “I can take it. I have my safety valve on.” Gordon reassured, knowing that neither of them knew what a safety valve was really for.

  


“If he has a safety thingy, I’ll allow it.” announced the dodo. 

  


Ashima swung her trunk back and forth to create momentum. With an underarm, or rather undertrunk throw, Gordon was launched high up in the air but not too high. As he zoomed past Spencer and Vinnie, they both lost their coordination for a bit from shock. “Flying steam-engine, coming through!” he shouted with a smile. The two birds flew faster with determination to defeat the engine at the race. “I’m not losing to you a second time, insect.” grumbled Vinnie.

  


Gordon lost his smug grin as he forgot one part of the plan, the landing. As his body was directed towards the finish line and the ground, Gordon began to regretted his decision and closed his eyes for certain impact. He would for sure shatter in shards like he thought before, or even dig into the earth and be stuck there for the rest of his life! Again, the engine in peril exaggerated his thoughts of his demise.

  


Spencer flew closer to the ground in hopes of crossing the line first. “I’ll show that shrinking engine-thing who’s better.” he vowed.

  


“I, Gordon the not-so-big-at-the-moment engine, will leave my express to-” Gordon’s rushed will was interrupted by another familiar landing on feathers. He bounced off and made it across the line safely. The bird that he landed on this time was Spencer, who had unfortunately tumbled the rest of the way after Gordon, followed by Vinnie and the rest of the animals.

  


They were all waiting for Flying Dodo to announce the winner and the promised prize, especially Gordon who had won first place despite Spencer was moaning how he crossed it first until Gordon made him face-plant.

  


“I now declare that the winner is…” Flying Dodo made a dramatic pause to the surprise of no one.

  


“Everyone!”

  


“What?!” exclaimed Gordon and Spencer in sync. “Everyone’s a winner in their own way.” explained the dodo. The rest aside from Vinnie and Spencer agreed with smiles and congratulating each other. Gordon joined in reluctantly.

  


“So I literally threw myself to cross the line first for nothing.” “Technically Ashima threw you but it wasn’t for nothing,” Flying Dodo grinned as if he had another position to give, “Since you came first, you can give out the prizes!”

  


Spencer smirked at Gordon’s nervous expression. “Good luck with that.”

  


After a minute of mumbling and thinking, Gordon finally spoke.

  


“As the one who has no gifts or trinkets to give away, I have something better for your rewards. I will grant each of you a title to your name.”

  


“What good are those titles? What’s wrong with our names?” rudely asked a disappointed Vinnie.

  


“Having a little object would probably rot or rust away, a title lasts forever.” answered Gordon, satisfied as the rest of the animals agreed with him.

  


“Ashima, I grant thee the title of ‘Ashima the Kind and Helpful’.”

  


“Axel, I grant thee the title of ‘Axel the Calmly-Collected’.”

  


“Carlos, I grant thee the title of ‘Carlos the Happy-Hearted’.”

  


“Etienne, I grant thee the title of ‘Etienne the Polite and Mature’.”

  


“Frieda, I grant thee the title of ‘Frieda the Confidently-Strong’.”

  


“Gina, I grant thee the title of ‘Gina the Sweetly-Swift’.”

  


“Ivan, I grant thee the title of ‘Ivan the Comedic and Friendly’.”

  


“Rajiv, I grant thee the title of ‘Rajiv the Beautifully-Caring’.”

  


“Raul, I grant thee the title of ‘Raul the Spiritedly-Eager’.”

  


“Shane, I grant thee the title of ‘Shane the Devoted and Carefree’.”

  


“Yong Bao, I grant thee the title of “Yong Bao the Faithfully-Inspiring’.”

  


Honestly, Gordon mimicked how the Queen would give someone knighthood, thus he used ‘thee’ instead of ‘you’. He also created the titles based on what he knew about them from the Great Railway Show. He hesitated at giving Spencer and Vinnie’s title, unsure what to give them without offending them in any way.

  


“Spencer… I grant thee the title of ‘Spencer the Proudly-Egotistic’. Egotistic is a special word for very confident.” Spencer didn’t seem to be offended at all and accepted it. Thankfully for Gordon, Spencer bought into his definition of ‘egotistic’.

  


“And Vinnie… I grant thee the title of ‘Vinnie the Competitively-Speedy’.”

Vinnie had also accepted his title, but Gordon glimpsed a small smile on his face. Evidently, Vinnie would not have fallen for such a trick.

  


“What title should I have?” asked Flying Dodo. “I do like my title now.”

“What about we just add something to it?” suggested Gordon, “How about…”

Gordon thought about his own brother, “ ‘Flying Dodo the Grandly-Optimistic Leader’?”

“I like that title very much!” agreed the dodo.

“Flying Dodo, I grant thee the title of ‘Flying Dodo the Grandly-Optimistic Leader’.”

  


“What title should Gordon have?” Ashima (the Kind and Helpful) wondered. “We’ll give him his title.” Shane (the Devoted and Carefree) proposed.

All the animals, excluding Spencer (the Proudly-Egotistic) and Vinnie (the Competitively-Speedy) who both just remained silent, cheered in agreement.

  


They all huddled up to discuss the title for Gordon. When they dispersed, Flying Dodo (the Grandly-Optimistic Leader) puffed his feathers with pride.

  


“Gordon, we, the animals of this meeting grant thee the title, ‘Gordon the Greatly-Wonderful Steam-Engine’!”

  


After hearing his title, Gordon felt a spark of a rare emotion. He didn’t recall the emotion’s name, but he liked it. He felt thankful. He felt like his fictional heart - fictional because engines don’t have physical hearts - had warmed up. 

  


“My, thank you.” Gordon was basically speechless. 

“You’re welcome.” Frieda (the Confidently-Strong) replied.

  


“I think I can declare this meeting dismissed.” Flying Dodo (the Grandly-Optimistic Leader) announced.

  


Gordon then remembered why he was caught in this mess. 

  


“Excuse me, Ashima. Do you know Per- I mean, a rabbit?” Gordon stopped himself from saying ‘Percy’ in case that wasn’t his name in this world, or the name of someone else Ashima knows.

  


“A rabbit? I know a lot of rabbits, but none of them come to the meetings. Could you be more specific.”

  


“Well, he’s not completely a rabbit. He’s an engine like me but a bit shorter and he lacks a tender. He’s green but was more gold and red the last I saw him and had ears and a tail of a rabbit. He moves quite quickly.”

  


“Strange… I did see a green creature rushing towards that way when I went to the meeting. Perhaps that’s the ‘rabbit’ you seek.” Ashima answered, pointing her trunk to a path that disappeared into a forest. 

  


Before Gordon left, Ashima filled his boiler until he was about his normal size, slightly bigger to be exact.

  


“Thank you Ashima. Goodbye!” “Farewell Gordon! Good luck!” Ashima called after Gordon chuffed his way into the forest, following the dirt path beneath him.


	4. Percy Sends Phillip to Gordon in the Middle

  


After his trial in kangaroo court - even though there weren’t any kangaroos - and a caucus race, Gordon puffed down the dirt path in peace. He thought that when he grew big, he would require rails again. Gordon did feel more secure on rails, but he did not deny that it would be troublesome to need them when he’s somewhere that didn’t have tracks.

  


“As long as I don’t knock over, I think I’ll be fine.” Gordon mumbled to himself. Or was he talking to himself? Gordon had a feeling that someone was watching him shrink bit by bit as he travelled. His first instinct was to chuff as quickly as possible to lose them but that would be a waste of water. Instead, Gordon went slowly and listened carefully for anyone. He heard faint rustles in the flora and soon, voices that spoke in a familiar, Scottish dialect.

  
  


“Tis yer fault ye scared th' rabbit away.” “Na! Tis yer fault! Cause of ye, we have nae company!”

“Donald and Douglas?” whispered Gordon. “They’ve seen the rabbit? Perhaps they could direct me to him.”

  


Gordon passed through the bushes and saw the Scottish twins arguing. They were in engine form, to Gordon’s relief.  What was different about them was that, despite being like Gordon, they were well versed in moving about in this way.

  


“Excuse me, do you know which way the rabbit went?” Gordon asked.

  


Surprised but somewhat pleased, the twins stopped their argument with innocent looks on their faces.

  


“What rabbit? Na rabbit here,” The twins replied in perfect synchronisation, “Who are you?”

  


At last, Gordon had found residents who referred to him as ‘Who’, not ‘What’.

  


“My name is Gordon. You two were talking about the rabbit that passed by. You were just arguing about it seconds ago.”

“Why ye ask?” The twins pondered.

“Well, I’m chasing after the rabbit because I have to talk to him about something. He rushed by while I needed a nap and woke me up, so I have to find him in order to complain for an apology.”

“Ah’m Tweedle-Donald.” “An’ Ah’m Tweedle-Douglas. An’ na, we have nae seen the wee rabbit.” “Or was it a big one Douglas?” “Aye, we dinnae know.”

  


Their answer left Gordon puzzled and annoyed. For certain, they knew about the rabbit who went by in a hurry.

  


“Fine then,” Gordon huffed, “I’ll try to find him myself. Sorry for bothering you two.”

  


“Wait! We know where it went. We know about it.” confessed Tweedle-Donald. “If ye stay for a little while, we’ll tell ye which path it went along.” added Tweedle-Douglas.

  


“I guess I could stay,” agreed Gordon, “But I’m not the kind of engine who gets obsessed with a tree the moment I see it. I prefer sophisticated entertainment.” ‘Unlike Henry.’ He mentally added.

  


“Well then, how aboot a brawl?” “A fight!” The twins were bashing against each other and Gordon questioned how in the world does that did not hurt. Gordon was a strong engine, but due to his situation he decided to preserve his energy for whatever was awaiting him in the near future.

  


“Why don’t we just talk about serious things to pass the time? Like gentlemen.” 

  


The twins were interested in being ‘gentlemen’, as if it was some plaything.

  


“How aboot a poem?” Tweedle-Douglas suggested. “ ‘The Toad and the Olive tree’. An interesting tale.” said Tweedle-Donald.

“Alright then.” agreed Gordon.

  


The twins took turns with each verse.

* * *

_ “The stars all sparkled and twinkled, _

_ Their light upon the moor, _

_ Puck and friends would enjoy, _

_ To dance and sing but what for? _

_ They cheered and sang the tale of, _

_ The characters of the lore, _

  


_ The sun and moon, day and night, _

_ Though the sun never learned, _

_ Once the sun asked the moon, _

_ ‘Why should we have turns?’ _

_ So the moon simply said, _

_ ‘So creatures won’t wither or burn.’ _

  


_ The lake in the moor barely waved _

_ The moor wearily wuthered, _

_ There was an olive tree, _

_ Because there were no others, _

_ There was a toad, _

_ And it was never bothered, _

  


_ The Toad and the Olive Tree, _

_ Were very close indeed, _

_ Ever since the Toad was ‘Tadpole’, _

_ And the Olive tree was ‘Olive seed’. _

_ And companions, no matter what, _

_ Was what they both agreed, _

  


_ The Olive tree obligated to bore, _

_ Poor Toad with tales of bravery, _

_ ‘I came through storms and thunder, _

_ I’m a very brave tree, see?’ _

_ ‘Yes, Mr Olive Tree, I see.’  _

_ Toad responds politely, _

  


_ Then one day, a creature, _

_ Alligator came to the moor, _

_ “Name’s Gator, it’s nice to meet you, _

_ Olive Tree’s stories always left me in awe, _

_ Toad, would you like to visit me in the lake, _

_ I too have tales galore,” _

  


_ Toad, was interested, _

_ In Gator but Toad does mind, _

_ Even though Olive tree’s quite boastful, _

_ Toad shouldn’t leave him behind, _

_ ‘Cause if he did, the promise, _

_ Would be broken, were he not kind, _

  


_ Now when you hear the ‘wuthering’, _

_ It’s the Olive Tree of the moor, _

_ ‘If only I was humble.’ he moaned, _

_ Olive Tree withered with grief but what for? _

_ For the Toad visited the Gator, _

_ And didn’t come back anymore!” _

* * *

“The end!” Announced the twins.

“That was quite an interesting poem,” Gordon admitted.

  


“Which character did ye like the best?” asked Tweedle-Donald.

“I think I like the Toad the best. Even though he left the Olive tree, he did feel sorry about it.”

“But he still left the Olive tree all sad an’ lonely.” Tweedle-Douglas interrupted, making Gordon changing his mind.

  


“In that case, I like the Olive tree the best,” Gordon hastily claimed, “He did learn his lesson to be humble at the end, and he did care about the Toad.”

“But tis was his own pride that got him into the mess.” added Tweedle-Donald.

  


“Alright, I like the Gator the best then. He was friendly after all.”

“But he’s the reason why the Toad left the Olive tree.” Both twins contradicted.

  


Gordon was left puzzled.

  


“Fine then! I like them all equally. No more, no less. You two make them sound so contrary!”

“Contrary?” “Yes. Like in the nursery rhyme, ‘Mistress Mary Quite Contrary’.”

The two twin engines were interested in one blink.

“Missus Mary? Never heard that poem.” “Aye Tweedle-Donald. Could ye care to tell us that poem?”

“Mistress Mary,” corrected Gordon, “And sure, it’s a short poem.”

The blue engine drew in a breath before reciting the nursery rhyme which he has heard from the little children at the stations for years.

* * *

_ ‘Mistress Mary, quite contrary, _

_ How does your garden grow? _

_ With silver bells and cockle shells, _

_ And pretty maids all in a row.’ _

* * *

“The word ‘contrary’ makes Miss Mary sound like lovely lady.”

“Common mistake,” Gordon explained, “‘Contrary’ means that the person is very disagreeable or stubborn. So the true context is, Mistress Mary is very stubborn of how she grows her garden and doesn’t like it when people tell her advice on how she should grow it.”

  


The twins were in awe of this piece of new knowledge. Not that Gordon minded.

  


“So, which way did the rabbit go?” Tweedle-Donald and Tweedle-Douglas both stopped talking of the word ‘Contrary’.

  


“We can say that the wee rabbit went down this path with the marigolds.” The two Scottish engines directed to said path, bound with bright, yellow flora.

  


“Thank you-” The twins had disappeared, leaving Gordon no choice but to follow the yellow flowered road.

  


* * *

  


“What an odd pair.” Gordon mumbled. “What’s more odd that I’m roughly Thomas’ size! Oh the indignity…”

  


Soon enough, the path of marigolds stopped in front of what seemed to be a massive cottage, if it wasn’t called a mansion.

  


“It has a height of one Cranky and a half!” Gordon exclaimed, still proud of his makeshift  measuring unit. This had brought the attention of a certain rushed rabbit.

  


“Oh dear! Oh my! I’m so behind on time!” Gordon had finally found Percy, bunny ears and all.

  


“Well, well, well. Here’s the engine I want to speak to-” “No time to talk! I need to find my parchment!”

  


Percy rushed into what Gordon believed was his cottage. All sorts of fabrics and little bits and bobs were flung out of the door. One ridiculously large sheet of green silk trapped Gordon, taking away his sight. When Percy had puffed out of the cottage, he took the sheet off Gordon. Gordon was more than confused since Percy was an engine like himself, having only buffers to pull the silk off.

  


“Oh dear, I don’t have time to put this away! Could you do it please?” “What? But I-” “Thank you so much! Put it back in the highest room and in the cupboard!” 

  


Percy shunted Gordon into the cottage before rushing out again. To Gordon’s disdain, he would have to pull the door to get out; he only knew how to push. 

  


“I might as well put this away, since I’m stuck in this one and a half Cranky tall ‘cottage’.” Gordon planned. The not-so-big-but-not-tiny blue engine chuffed onwards for what seemed like hours - even though it was about fifteen minutes, for Gordon exaggerated again - until he came upon the last room.

  


“How am I meant to reach the stairs?” Gordon pondered. There were two glass doors ajar and they lead to what seemed like a balcony in between two windows, decorated with curtains that had a floral pattern of roses and thorns. He came onto the balcony and was stunned by his current height above the ground. A Cranky and a half, to be exact.

  


“I didn’t even come across any stairs or even a ramp!” Gordon exclaimed, “This is such a bizarre place indeed! I’ve been shrinking and growing, rained on a bird, thrown to win a race and made another bird dive head-first into the ground and now this!” Gordon did not find the poem exchange with the twins strange enough to fit on his list.

  


“I suppose I’ll just leave this here.” Gordon fumbled with the silk that was dragged along on his tender. He bumped into a dresser which had a jug of water on top of it, and the pitcher conveniently fell on top of his boiler. It filled it up completely with water.

  


Gordon felt his body shrinking and growing in an abnormal way, but he wasn't too big yet.

“Oh no, not again…” He groaned.  Gordon burst inside the cottage, breaking on what was supposed to be the second floor. His tender crushed the back garden - if there was one - but fortunately, his face did not pop out of the wall, unlike his buffers. Two windows allowed Gordon to see the commotion outside.

  


Strangely, Percy was nowhere to be seen considering the destruction of his cottage. However, he did see human figures gaping at him or rather at what abomination that caused this sight before them. Seven of them, to be exact. Gordon squinted his eyes and recognised them by colour and the way they interacted.

  


The men were dressed in lower-class outfits - by Gordon’s definition of lower-class - and wore respective colours and tags displaying their names.

  


“Would you look at that?” said the carpenter with the tag ‘Rheneas’, “There’s something hiding in that cottage!”

  


“Ye 'n' yer silly imagination.” grumbled the one labelled ‘Duncan’.

  


“He’s right, it’s staring at us through those two windows!” argued Rheneas’ companion, ‘Rusty’. “You always have to complain, don't you Duncan?” “Why, I ought to-” “Gentlemen, let’s not fight. We can all agree there’s something in that cottage. The real question is if it’s safe or not.”  ‘Skarloey’ interrupted.

  


“Agreed.” ‘Sir Handel’ remarked in a nonchalant manner.

  


“It could be friendly,” muttered ‘Peter Sam’, “Anyways, has anyone seen Luke?”

As if on cue, their fellow carpenter (whom Gordon presumed to be Luke) rushed  onto the scene, out of breath.

“Sorry guys, I got caught up with something,” puffed Luke, “I ran into this little guy getting stuck in a tree.”

  


Gordon was not intimidated or amused by them. “What is this? ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’?”

  


“We’ll never be able to do one rehearsal of ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ at this rate!” Duncan complained. 

  


“Correction, ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’  _ from _ ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” Gordon stated. “Might as well be as confusing as ‘Much Ado About Nothing’.”

  


Gordon’s knowledge of Shakespeare’s works came partially from conversations he would overhear at stations. There were a few productions, but obviously Gordon was not able to see them. A Shakespearean actor had often explained the plots of the plays to his mother, who did not understand them. Specifically, the playwright’s wording. That was imprinted into Gordon’s mind instead of the old lady’s.

  


What Luke ran into appeared to be a small Diesel engine no higher than the fence in front.

  


“Phillip?” Gordon whispered. Phillip seemed to be more energetic than usual, and that was saying something. Like the Scottish twins Gordon met previously, Phillip was more experienced of movement without tracks.

  


“Ooh! Is that smoke from that weird chimney?”

  


Gordon had no idea how Phillip would mistake his funnel for a chimney and the steam clouds for smoke. Then again, this is Phillip.

  


The group of carpenters had decided to start rehearsing anyway, without supervising the hyperactive Phillip. As Gordon had predicted, there was a carpenter playing ‘Pyramus’, ‘Thisbe’, ‘Wall’, ‘Moonshine’, ‘Lion’ and so on. Every time they mispronounced ‘Ninus’ tomb’ for ‘Ninny’s tomb’, Gordon kept muttering to correct them and groaned at their poor use of iambic pentameter.

  


Unaware to the Skarloey carpenters and Gordon, Phillip had somehow got onto the roof with debris above the hole Gordon’s funnel created. The funnel did not peek through the hole, but Gordon’s sudden transformation had been enough to break part of the roof.

  


“I wonder what will happen if I push all the broken tiles and dust into there?” pondered Phillip. He had pushed all the debris into Gordon’s funnel with a naive smile.

  


The gigantic blue engine spluttered at the invasive feeling of the debris in his pipes and smokebox. The curious diesel above moved closer to observe through the hole in the roof. Poor Gordon felt the need to sneeze, and worried that the whole cottage would collapse on him.

  


After numerous attempts to contain it, Gordon sneezed. Stronger than Henry had when he taught those mischievous boys a lesson by sneezing soot on them, the sneeze carried the debris and Phillip up into the air. 

  


“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” screeched Phillip. By Gordon’s logic, Phillip should’ve fallen down... but it seemed that Gordon had blasted him out of the atmosphere! This had caught the attention of the Skarloey carpenters, shocked faces plastered on each of them.

  


“Poor Phillip.” Gordon whispered as if it were an apology. He doubted that the poor thing had even thought about writing a will, unlike Gordon, who had hastily created his during his flight in the caucus race. Gordon made a mental note to develop on the will at a later date.

  


“Well, that does it! The creature in that house is evil! It blew that innocent young’un into the bloody sky!” Duncan cried. 

  


“By the looks of it, we’ll have to make a sensible plan.” Skarloey decided. ‘At least one of them is reasonable.’ Gordon thought. “We’ll smoke the beast out!” 

  


‘What?!?’ Gordon mentally screeched.

  


The Skarloey Carpenters all agreed on covering the hole with some of the useable debris and using Gordon’s ‘smoke’ against him. The gigantic ‘beast’ engine didn’t even notice the hole being completed in such a short time frame: they had it done in under a minute.

  


Plumes of polluted steam poured out of any cracks in the cottage, as well as the windows that were Gordon’s only vision. The dust particles that were carried around by the steam made Gordon splutter and wheeze once more. The Carpenters were far away from the cottage in a safe distance to take cover.

  


This time when Gordon sneezed, the cottage walls and the roof flew away like the frightened critters fleeing nearby, leaving the engine back to his smaller-than-a-toy-engine size.

  


He saw the frame of the entrance door, with said door missing due to his sneeze and grumpily ignored the Skarloey carpenters celebrating his ‘defeat’. With slight satisfaction but discomfort - Gordon absolutely loathed the feeling of dust and debris in his system, which should be well cleared - chuffed out the door and into the long grass.

  


“Oh the indignity. Now Henry can actually justify why he feels so horrible when he was a sickly engine, since the whistles and taking my express wasn’t enough for karma.” Gordon moaned.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can clearly see that I slowly gave up on the accent for the Scottish twins and I rushed the poem ('The Walrus and the Carpenter'was really long so I made 'The Toad and the Olive Tree' a bit shorter)


	5. Chapter 5

Gordon felt tired, extremely tired. He was glad that the overlooking grass provided him shade. His pistons begged him to take a break, but Gordon was determined to give Percy a piece of his mind for dragging the express engine into the mess, so he carried on. 

 

Gordon chuffed tirelessly, knowing that the water in his boiler would soon disappear, and that it would be a waste to stop and wheesh more steam.

 

The noise he made should be ‘puffing’ but strangely, Gordon had been hearing it go quieter until he came to a gradual halt. “Bother, without any water I can’t move at all!” 

 

“I might as well just let my wheels and my pistons rust away and I’ll have plants popping out like some garden pot.” Gordon had the suspicion he was being watched but by who this time? He’d be too small to be seen, after all, the flowers that had the height of tall trees in his perspective gave him cover.

 

“Would you look at that?” 

 

“Yes, a blue caterpillar!” 

 

“Or a blue worm, by far the oddest looking worm I’ve seen.” 

 

“Indeed!” 

 

The very tiny blue engine was surprised at the voices. “I don’t see any worm.” muttered Gordon. ‘They better not have been referring to me… but of course! I’ve basically been getting the spotlight since I fell from the sky!’

 

“How adorable, it talks too!” 

 

“Adorable?!” Gordon spluttered with embarrassment.

 

A green gladiolus flower bent down to get a closer look. “An odd looking worm with wheels!”

The voice of the latter flower reminded Gordon of a certain engine. “Emily?” 

 

Another flower also leaned over. “I’m not even sure if it is a worm!” 

 

“Daisy?” The pearly-white flower giggled with glee, “At last, someone knows a refined blossom like myself.” 

 

“Let me see!” 

 

“Rosie, wait your turn!”

 

Soon, a whole talking bouquet swarmed over to observe the blue creature, including a yellow sunflower that had to bend down and an exotic orange plant with foreign patterns. Gordon did not like to be doted on as if he was a cute animal. To be fair, he was far from cute in his opinion.

  
  
  


...

 

“Alright settle down! What’s with all this commotion?” Two bees buzzed down to have a closer look at Gordon, who recognised the yellow striped insects as the mischievous twins of the quarry.

 

“Bill and Ben?” 

 

“Don’t you mean Ben and Bill?” They responded. Gordon did predict that Bill and Ben - or Ben and Bill -  would pull the ‘mixed-up twins’ card.

 

The Daisy huffed at the twin bees. “You’re lucky Mavis the song-thrush isn’t here to keep you two in line.” 

 

“You’re all sticks in the mud, literally. Besides, our trouble-making will bring some excitement to your lives ladies. No offence Stepney.”

 

A Bluebell flower, who Gordon presumed was Stepney, sighed. “None taken.”

 

The curious twins hovered closer to take a closer look at Gordon. He was annoyed but couldn’t do much about it.

 

“What an odd thing.” 

 

“You can say that again.” 

 

“What an odd thing.”

 

Gordon the still-tiny engine was furious after being called ‘it’, ‘thing’ just stabbed into his dignity more.

“I am not a thing!”

 

“So it talks.” spoke the twins. “Adorable, isn’t it?” added Emily the Gladiolus.

 

“I am not adorable.” Gordon retaliated. This didn’t intimidate the bees whatsoever, it only piqued their interest of causing mischief.

 

“Well Ben, don’t you think he looks familiar?” “Bust my wings, you're right Bill!”

 

‘What are those two up to? And what do they mean that I look familiar?!’

The snickering insects finally gave the context to Gordon as if they'd read his mind.

 

“Didn’t he go down the marigold path earlier, Bill!” “You sure? He was a million times larger than this, Ben!”

 

“Wait a minute, you both were there when I talked to those twins, Tweedle-Donald and Tweedle-Douglas?”

 

“Indeed we were, Gordon! We even saw you blowing that cottage down!”

 

The Daisy groaned in annoyance towards the twins. “Were you two spying on those silly Scottish Twins again?”

 

Both of the bees buzzed angrily towards the haughty Daisy. “No, we did not!” defended Ben. “We heard Gordon’s interesting poetry so we stopped to listen!” added Bill. “In fact, we made a little poem just for you.”

 

Gordon recited the poem mentally,

 

_ ‘Mistress Mary, quite contrary, _

_ How does your garden grow? _

_ With silver bells and cockle shells, _

_ And marigolds all in a row…… wait...’ _

 

Gordon wasn’t too sure about that last line… he did recall at his encounter with the twins that he said the version with ‘pretty maids’ and left following a trail of marigolds… or did he follow a trail of maids - which would be an odd name for a flower - and performed the version with marigolds. This whole place was messing up his memory!

 

The poem turned out to be a parody of ‘Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary’, but not a very nice one.

 

“Mister Gordon, quite the phenomenon, 

Not only he shrinks and grows,

With a mountain of pride, and temper inside,

In a flick, his fuse just might blow!”

 

If Gordon still had water in his boiler, all of it would be turned into steam and flowing out of his funnel accompanied the sound of a kettle whistling. Of course, that is an exaggeration. However, the bees couldn't resist taunting Gordon further. "Mister Gordon’s face was so red that it could defeat King James’ famous livery!" They cackle with laughter. 

 

“Once I grow back to my normal size, I’ll run you over with my wheels.”

 

However, his threat did not deter Bill and Ben in doing one more trick.

 

“Why so red, Mr Gordon?” “You could use a little cool down.”

 

Using their weight, Bill and Ben tipped over a huge leaf that was holding enough water to wash Gordon out. Gordon was petrified, due to his inability to move and the water coming at him like a tsunami.

The tide carried him away from the flower bed and down a hill faster than Gordon could say ‘Oh the indignity.’

 

* * *

 

Not a moment later after the soil beneath soaked up all the water, Gordon was grumbling. “At least they filled up my tank with water.” The engine had grown to the height of the tall grass around him, he may not be satisfied with his current size but it would do in the meantime.

 

He came across a calm pond. “I would do anything to stop this shrinking and growing nonsense,” Gordon chuffed around slowly, gazing upon his reflection, “I can’t even keep track of it.” 

 

Ripples in the water distorted the image of a blue engine as a duck and its ducklings swam across to the shore. The fluffy yellow ducklings caught sight of Gordon, their curiosity luring them to surround the engine. Gordon locked eyes with an angry father.

 

“Who are you?” 

“...Pardon?”  

“Who are you?!” quacked the Duck in an angry tone.

 

“I honestly don’t know anymore,” replied Gordon, “My name is Gordon, I know that for certain. But I’ve been shrinking and growing all day non-stop. Sometimes I’m a gigantic engine, a middle-sized engine, a small engine or a tiny engine that can’t even be seen. I can’t even call myself ‘Gordon the Big Engine’ if I can’t stay the same size. Oh, I would love to be back in my original size again and stay in it, this is such a dreadful height to be in-”

 

“So what’s wrong with this height?! I’m in the same height too, you know?!” The Duck hastily interrupted his rant.

 

Gordon was already in such an irritated mood, so he decided to leave before more mishaps could happen.

 

“Come back! Come back!” 

 

“What does he want now?” grumbled Gordon, nonetheless he grudgingly complied.

 

When he returned, the ducklings were swimming along the stream within the Duck’s supervision. The Duck rudely stared at him, Gordon had been through confusion and delay but this is one of the worst cases he’s ever seen- no, been in.

 

“Well?” 

 

“Well what?” It replied.

 

“You’re the one who called me back!” Gordon huffed.

 

The Duck shook his head in disappointment, ‘tsking’ at the engine. “That attitude won’t do! You have to learn to control your temper, it’s the reason why you’re shrinking so much.”

 

Gordon looked at his reflection, realising that he has indeed shrunk a little. It didn’t help since Gordon was wrong, and the Duck was right.

 

“So basically, the more I’m angry, the more water I use. I suppose when you add logic into the equation, it makes sense. My anger controls... well, actually no. It controls the heat of the fire in my firebox, so I burn off more water when I’m angry; thus making me shrink more than usual.” Gordon ranted, glad that there was some form of logic in this world that he could understand.

 

“Or to shrink your hideous face when you get angry so no one will have to see such a face.” muttered the Duck.

 

“Why you-” Gordon remembered about temper, and if he was to get the best of this place, he’d have to keep it under control. The flames soon regained their normal size. “I don’t understand, I’m the one who has to manage my anger and you’re the one who… got angry at me.”

 

“I’m just trying to look out for my ducklings. There’s this strange, square black engine abducting other ducklings. Not that it would matter myself but who knows what happened to them. They could have been roasted and served.” 

 

“I understand. I act the same way if someone stole my express.” 

 

“So you have to learn how to not act like that.”

 

“It still doesn’t help me how to grow back and stay in it.” 

 

The Duck waddled not too far away, prodding his beak into the reeds of the stream. He returned with two pebbles, one with a hint of blue and the other with streaks of red.

 

“If you place either of them in your fire, they will have an effect on your size. This one,” The Duck pointed to the indigo orb, “Will never burn out and keep you in the same size. Unless,” His beak gestured at the brownish red clay, “You add this in after. It increases your size but will overpower the other one so it reverts back to shrinking over time and even worse if you get angry. You add the blue one after, then you’ll stay in that size. I think about a quarter of the clay will do the trick... Well…” 

 

“Well?” 

 

“What are you waiting for? You have what you need to stay in your size.”

 

“I will require assistance if I’m going to put them in my firebox. Does it look like I have any limbs?” Gordon responded sarcastically.

 

The Duck broke off roughly a quarter of the red, stubborn clay and waddled off with the piece. Thankfully, Gordon’s cab is big enough for the Duck to step inside. The feeling of webbed feet stomping around his cab felt both odd and heavy. The Duck fiddled with his firebox and tossed the piece of clay which quickly melted.

 

“Are you sure it’s working? I barely feel any-” Before Gordon could finish his sentence, there were leaves in his mouth that he instantly spat out. He could only see the top of the trees that were a few Crankys tall if he recalled, and he felt the Duck fluttering about with panic in his cab.

 

“When I said  _ -pfft- _ ‘Gordon the big engine’  _ -pfft- _ I meant  _ -pfft- _ Not this big!” The branches kept swinging back at his mouth, which was growing to be such a nuisance for the phenomenon known as Gordon. ‘Bother! Now it’s stuck in my mind!’ 

 

“You didn’t hurt my ducklings, I’ll give you that!” cried the Duck. “Just get angry!”

 

Fortunately, for the Duck, he was able to fly out of his cab so he may not be burned in the process. Gordon had no problem ranting off all the things that went wrong - in his perspective anyway - in this horrid place. 

 

“Well  _ -pfft- _ bother!” He was so frustrated, he had bitten off some troublesome branches! He spat them out so they wouldn’t get into his mouth again, finally allowing him to talk with no interruptions, “I fell through a hole that felt like an eternity! I’ve been shrinking and growing ever since! I fell from the sky and got thrown by an elephant and nearly got assassinated by an eagle with a buffalo brain!”

 

Gordon started to shrink down, steam flowing out and his face tinted red all over.

 

“I couldn’t even pick a favourite character in a poem! I was trapped in some ‘cottage’ that was a Cranky and a half tall and there were no stairs! I even blew it down! And to top it off, an annoying pair of mischievous twins mocked me in a third-rate poem and washed me down a hill!”

 

Each time he yelled, he shrunk by a quarter of a Cranky… or that’s what Gordon estimated. He had his eyes clenched in rage and couldn’t give an exact measurement.

 

“How despicable!” Gordon shrunk down to Cranky.

 

“Quite disgusting!” He shrunk to half a Cranky

 

“Just disgraceful-” “Stop! Is this the right height now?”

 

Gordon the maybe-at-the-right-size engine looked back into the lake, joyful at his original form that matched to the ratio between his surroundings and his body. 

 

“Yes! Yes it is!” Gordon laughed triumphantly - though the laugh sounded like it was more relief than triumph - at the success. 

 

The Duck sighed, waddling with the indigo orb in his beak. “Just let me add this in before you get tiny again.”

 

The orb simmered slowly into the fire unlike the clay. The remains of said clay still stuck onto Gordon’s cab, quite stubborn indeed.

 

“Now I can go in peace knowing that someone won’t be crushing my nest anytime soon.” Huffed the Duck, who haughtily splashed back into the lake and swam away with ducklings trailing behind him.

 

“What a bother,” Gordon grumbled, whose mood changed to happy instantly when he saw that he didn’t shrink, “So it does work.” he mused.

 

Then Gordon, who was finally ‘the big engine’ again, puffed on his merry way.


	6. Pipes and Hooks

Gordon was very glad to be in his original size, but still he puffed on through the woods in search of Percy, the engine with bunny ears and a tail.  
  
In the distance was the sound of metal clashing each other again and again. "What is that racket?" grumbled Gordon as he came closer and closer to the source.  
  
The noise appeared to come from a building that Gordon described as a smaller version of the Steamworks.  
  
Curious, he puffed through the doors. Inside, he found that the walls were lined with steel and a yellow blur that flung pipes, parts and other scraps of metal against said walls, creating the discordant noises. If Gordon had ears, he'd block out the sound from entering them if he also had hands and arms to go with the ears. Alas, Gordon could only wince at the cacophony.  
  
What really spooked the engine - even Gordon couldn't deny that he felt such fright - was that a pipe was shot into the wall like a spear, missing the tip of Gordon's nose by a speck of dust.  
  
"Sorry! Didn't see you there!" Gordon wasn't sure whether he was worried that the voice belonged to Kevin or that he didn't say his usual response when an accident occurred due to his clumsy hook.  
  
"Good aim Kevin! Keep it up!" Victor had entered the scene. Both the Steamworks engine and the crane had not changed in appearance but that statement worried Gordon even more.  
  
At the far end of the building, on top of a mountain of pipes that were neatly stacked was a green owl - whose feathers were tipped with red and yellow - napping through all the chaos.  
  
Victor noticed Gordon, giving him his signature smile that welcomed any engine.  
  
"Hello my friend, what brings you here?" "Well, it's nice that someone acts normal-" "Kevin! Get ready!"  
  
The yellow crane grinned as he started to create a small tornado as he swung another pipe around and around.  
  
"All you have to do is stay still." Gordon indeed stayed still, not because he heeded Victor's instruction but because he was paralysed with fear due to his last encounter with a pipe- no, a forsaken metal spear!  
  
As mere seconds passed, Victor stared at the ceiling, confusing Gordon. "Incoming!" Victor's accuracy was spot on as something crashed through the roof and bounced along the walls while at the same time, Kevin fired pipes around the room.  
  
"Wheeeeeeeeeee!" "Phillip?!" Gordon recognised that screech to be the very diesel that he unfortunately sneezed up into the sky.  
  
Gordon the one-who-denies-he's-scared-if-asked-but-in-reality-he's-paralysed-with-fear engine gaped at the impossible - or at least in his definition of impossible - as Phillip comically sprang off the walls, followed by pipes thrown by Kevin, only missing him by a second all while avoiding Gordon, Victor and the owl.  
  
"Good aim Kevin!" complemented Victor as Phillip exited the building - by bouncing of a wall at a certain angle - with a joyful laugh following him.  
  
When Gordon regained his confidence since the same can't be said for his sanity, he could finally have a normal conversation of this world's Victor. Hopefully with no interruptions.  
  
Gordon eyed the green owl that stayed still. "So… what is that owl over there? I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"That is a Bicker-Owl. You must not have known much to not know about it."  
  
With not a concern about his size, Gordon felt free to be to his display his rage.  
  
"I'm actually rather intelligent for an engine!" Gordon huffed, "Very intelligent if I do say so myself!"  
  
"Not intelligent enough to know what a Bicker-Owl is, so not very intelligent."  
  
Before Gordon could argue further, Victor hurried out of the building. "Pardon me but there's an audience with the King I must attend. Kevin, keep practicing!"  
  
Gordon also sped out of the 'Steam-works' before Kevin started to toss the pipes again.  
  
The blue engine puffed along a path through the forest again. Gordon hoped that he'll catch Percy soon so he could go home as well, although going home was not his top priority at the moment. He looked at the scenery around him, the light becoming more absent as Gordon kept going. This environment made it easier for the steam engine to notice the green Bicker-Owl, resting on a branch above a junction in the pathways.  
  
The Bicker-Owl stared back at him. Gordon the Big Engine had a neutral opinion on winged and feathered creatures. Perhaps fate would smile upon him if the owl would give him directions. He took into account that he'll have to be respectful since his arrogance has done him no good so far on this adventure.  
  
"Bicker-Owl," Gordon spoke, glad to see that the creature was not offended, "Do you know which way I should go from here?"  
  
"It depends. Where exactly do you want to go?" asked the Bicker-Owl, ruffling its feathers.  
  
"Does it really matter where I end up?"  
  
"Yes, otherwise it doesn't really matter which direction you go."  
  
That sort of logic did make sense to Gordon.  
  
"Who lives around here then?"  
  
"If you follow along this trail," the Bicker-Owl lifted its left wing, "you'll meet a tank engine with two coaches. The other way, however," the creature raised its other wing, "Lives a tram with one coach. But you're free to go whichever path you like, both of them are mad either way."  
  
"Mad? It seems to me that almost everyone here is mad." remarked Gordon. But when he looked back up, the Bicker-Owl had disappeared  
  
"We're all mad," added the Bicker-Owl who suddenly flew out of Gordon's cab, "I might not be as mad as a cat but I'm still as mad as you are mad."  
  
"How did you- nevermind that,"The blue engine was indeed taken by surprise but decided not to display it, "how could I be mad?" Gordon asked rather defensively.  
  
"Everyone around me always goes mad, maybe not the same kind of mad as the two engines along these paths." answered the Bicker-Owl.  
  
"But I'm not mad!" Gordon retaliated rather angrily.  
  
"Maybe not the kind of mad you're thinking of."  
  
This time, the Bicker-Owl reappeared in a tree hollow, its eyes piercing through the darkness as it turned its head to face Gordon, before disappearing again. It reminded him of a certain engine who hid in a similar way - 'similar' since it'd be impossible for a steam engine to fit in a tree hollow.  
  
When Gordon was sure he was alone, he decided to go on the path on the left, where the mad tank engine with two coaches resided.  
  
He could've sworn that the Bicker-Owl sounded too much like a nature-loving engine he knew too well.


	7. A Mad Turntable Party

Gordon puffed on, thinking about how mad the next engine could be. Given how everyone else had been acting, they were probably very mad.

The big blue engine spotted fairy lights and also heard music in the distance. Gordon’s most logical conclusion was a party being held. He was correct, and being at a closer position, he could also hear who Gordon was going to encounter next. 

“Of course, it had to be Thomas,” Gordon grumbled, “And the old tram, Toby.”

Nonetheless, he decided to enter the scene. A scene that was set in a gigantic building - shaped like a top hat - that looked like a child had hazardly stacked multiple models of Tidmouth sheds on top of each other.

There was only one entrance to this hive-like shed. Gordon chuffed through the gates, spotting Thomas and Toby on the third floor, carolling to some tune about an ‘unbirthday’. 

Thomas has had certainly changed in appearance. His paintwork was covered with specks of paint, a bow tie on his buffer and his funnel was somehow disguised as a top hat, more colourful than the Fat Controller’s infamous one. 

Toby’s paintwork was in a similar fashion to Thomas’, the one exception being the wonky, ragged rabbit ears on top of his roof instead of a hat.

“A merry Unbirthday to us all!” toasted Thomas, “And to all a good bite!” 

“Bite of toast with jam or marmalade?” added Toby, who seemed to have confused the speech for a slice of bread.

“We’re steam engines, we can’t eat.” deadpanned Gordon, who also seemed to take Thomas’ toast literally.

When Thomas and Toby noticed the blue engine, they went down to the ground floor in an absurd fashion. They reversed into the berths they were in, then popping out of random berths until they reached the bottom. “No room! No room!” they cried.

“Nonsense!” pouted Gordon, “There’s more than enough room here!” In defiance, Gordon moved onto the turntable, which in turn sprang up to the very top, where there were no berths at all! The giant tophat had no top at all!

“I already flew in the sky and grew to the size of a giant! Must the concept of suddenly changing into bizarre heights still have to mock me?!” cried the blue engine.

The turn-table then collapsed down, back on the ground floor where Gordon felt safe - for the moment at least- and where Thomas and Toby rested in berths in front of him.

“Of course there’s plenty of room,” explained the tram, “But there are no berths at the top, no room there! The turn-table has gone a tad mad-” ''But everything is mad here!” added the E2.

“The two mad engines.” mumbled Gordon.

“The Mad Tank Engine and the Mad Tram, to be exact.” proclaimed the Mad Tank Engine.

‘Thomas was already a pain as a normal small tank engine,’ Gordon thought to himself, ‘a Mad Thomas is something I don’t even want to think about… and a Mad Toby isn’t any better.’

“Anyway, I’m Gordon-” “The Mad Tender Engine?” The two mad engines interrupted rather eagerly.

“It’s actually ‘Gordon the Big Engine’,” He corrected, “But for now, let’s just stick with ‘Gordon’.”

“Such a shame there isn’t another mad engine.” The Mad Tram lamented.

“But I do remember being told that there were three coaches as well,” Gordon suddenly pondered out loud, “Where are those coaches by the way?”

The Mad Tram backed into the berth he was currently in then popped out of the berth, next to the Mad Tank Engine’s left, with Henrietta behind him. Henrietta had mouse ears, but unlike the Mad Tram - who was full with energy - she seemed to be very sleep deprived.

“Hello there…I’m… the Dor-coach...” Dor-coach yawned, struggling to keep her eyes open. 

“Annabelle and Clara are out on a siding nearby.” Explained the Mad Tank Engine.

“Don’t you mean Annie and Clarabelle?” asked a confused Gordon.

“No, I meant Annabelle and Clara, you know,” affirmed the Mad Tank Engine, “Clara’s the one who keeps staring at the sky for stars and Annabelle’s the coach filled with dolls.”

“In fact, Mad Tank Engine, I did not know.” replied Gordon the certainly-not-mad engine.

Gordon decided to back into a berth next to Mad Toby - since it would be degrading in his opinion for the engine to be next to the Mad Tank Engine - only for the E2 to appear next to his berth, leaving Gordon in the middle.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” asked the Mad Tank Engine.

“That’s quite a random thing to ask.” Gordon remarked with cynicism.

“It was quite random of you to back into a berth without asking or being invited.” The Mad Tram contradicted.

“How was I supposed to know that all of these berths were yours? There’s enough to hold an entire railway in here!” Gordon had a sharp tongue when it came to rude comments, however, he was hypocritical enough that he agreed engines shouldn’t be making such personal remarks, which scored him one too many embarrassing accidents when karma had bitten him back.

“It was a riddle anyway.” said the Mad Tank Engine, who pouted grumpily at Gordon.

‘A riddle? Quite a ridiculous riddle.’ thought Gordon, 

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” The drowsy Dor-coach repeated the question. 

“Do you think you can find the answer to that?” The Mad Tram’s question was directed at Gordon.

“I believe I can. Every puzzle has an answer, it’s only a matter of knowing what that answer is,” He answered when a possible solution flew into his funnel, “The reason why a raven is like a writing desk is-” “New berth! Move up! Move up!”

The Mad Tank Engine puffed onto the turntable which turned before carrying him to the next level above, where he settled into a new berth. Followed the Mad Tram and Dor-coach, although Gordon found it surprising that the turntable had enough room for both the tram and the coach.

“C’mon up Gordon!” called the Mad Tank Engine. The guest engine hesitantly puffed onto the turntable due to his last encounter with it. Luckily for Gordon, it had been a slow but smooth ride as he settled into another berth.

“Why did you just change berths?” asked Gordon, who seemingly forgot about the riddle.

“It’s always ‘return to the berths to rest’ o’clock for me.” answered the Mad Tank Engine. 

“Why’s that?” “You see, Gordon,” the E2 began his story, “There was a party to celebrate the Red King’s new livery design, since he was quite stubborn to change, even if it was one tiny dot of paint of a different shade of red, which was actually the case.”

“If I remember,” Gordon recounted what the twins - who teased his temper - had said to him, “It was King James.” 

“Yes, it was James the Red King,” the Mad Tank Engine agreed while Gordon mentally laughed at ‘James the Drama King’, “I was at the celebration, talking about Time, since he couldn’t come due to his duties. That was before I had to go on with a speech to congratulate the Red King.”

“Wait, is Time a person?” “Time is an engine, Gordon.” the Mad Tram hastily replied.

“The Red King had gotten so impatient with my talk about Time,” the Mad Tank Engine continued, “he hollered ‘The silly Mad Tank Engine is taking too much Time!’. So I was accused of stealing from Time.”

Gordon was astounded. “Did they find you guilty?” “Of course not! Besides, the Red King’s right hand engine advised him not be so silly so he calmed down and didn’t put me on trial… but Time, however, doesn’t turn time for me anymore! He says that until I apologise for ‘stealing’, it’ll always be the same time for me all the time! Time is quite stubborn and easy to offend.”

“Is that why there are so many berths? Because you have to move into a new one every time.” Gordon theoriesed.

 “Indeed!” spoke the Mad Tank Engine, “Thankfully, the Mad Controller built this hat of sheds for my situation.”

“Don’t you mean the Fat Controller?” Gordon interrupted.

“Of course he meant the Mad Controller!” corrected the Mad Tram, “It’s quite rude to call someone fat! You should know better! Although, he is a bit chubby on the side…”

“Ever since, I have not had a wink of sleep. And during this time, we’d talk about the things we’ve done during the day, but we’ve run out of things to talk about!” The Mad Tank Engine complained, “But I was mad even before that! Runs in the family!”

In a split second, the Mad Tank Engine puffed out of his current berth, with what seemed to be his family portrait, shoved it onto the turntable (which caught the massive portrait obligingly) before turning it so it would be easier for the three to view it.

It had a large golden frame - or at least Gordon thought it was gold underneath the unflattering splashes of paint - and the painting itself displayed a ridiculously large number of E2s, all in different colours, some more saturated than others. It had even surpassed the number of engines in Gordon’s family of Gresley engines, and that was saying something.

“So you’re saying that every engine in your family is mad?” “Yep!” Gordon found this hard to believe, some of the E2s looked perfectly sane.

“How about that engine in the corner? The one with the white livery.” ‘And the face of an annoyed, sleep-deprived engine.’ Gordon mentally added.

“Oh. That’s Timothy,” The Mad Tank Engine answered in a dull tone, “he went through a bit of a … what you call it? A phase. This was when Timothy was still going through his supernatural obsession, but I guess we can just say it was a goth phase. The last time I saw him, he was doing some weird ritual at a viaduct...

“Oh well! At least he’s mad in his own way!” The Mad Tank Engine’s cheery attitude did not help settle the rising concern in Gordon’s boiler. ‘So neither sanity nor reason run in his family. How reassuring.’ Gordon sarcastically thought to himself.

“New berth! Move up!” The Mad Tank Engine, the Mad Tram, the Dor-coach and Gordon moved up another level, settling into new berths.

“He wasn’t kidding when he said that you were mad.” Gordon accidentally mentioned aloud.

“Who said we were mad?” said the Mad Tram, who had little interest nor consideration.

“The Bicker-Owl-” “Owl?!” the Dor-coach seemingly had gotten loose from the Mad Tram’s coupling and began to zoom around the sheds on her own in a state of paranoia.

The Mad Tram gave chase, fear and worriedness painted on his face for the once-sleepy coach. The Mad Tank Engine also went after the Dor-coach, leaving Gordon in confusion.

The trio teleported in and out of berths and the turn-table worked away lifting and turning at an absurd pace. Both of the mad engines were hollering directions, strategies and occasionally a random thought about treacle as they tried to end the wild Dor-coach chase. It was even wilder than a goose chase! Well, inGordon’s opinion anyway. 

After a crazy and high-speed race - so fast that Gordon swore he felt dizzy just watching - the Mad Tank Engine and Tram trapped the Dor-coach at last. With her being coupled to the Mad Tram, her sleepy self returned. Both of the mad engines puffed back to the berths that they were in previously.

“What’s her problem?” Gordon whispered to the Mad Tank Engine.

“She goes mad when anyone says… O-W-L.” “Ow- I mean ‘how?’.. No, I meant ‘why?’!” stuttered Gordon, who stopped himself from saying the O word which would be a catalyst for another Dor-coach chase.

“Her sister… got snatched up by one.” The Mad Tank Engine answered somberly, which seemed quite out of character, even for this world’s version of Thomas.

‘Oh dear, a foul end by a … wait a minute, an owl isn’t a fowl!’ thought Gordon.

“Is it anything related to-” “The feathered creature from Bickers-town?” The Mad Tram interrupted, “Well, no. I’ve met him and he’s actually rather nice. It was a different one.”

‘Good, otherwise I can’t see that green owl nor his nature-loving counterpart the same way again!’ Gordon mentally commented, ‘Although, I don’t recall the Bicker-owl to be from Bickers-town… The name’s painfully obvious so I’ll spare what remains of my dignity by accepting that fact and not to ask about it… why does that place sound so familiar?’

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” murmured the Dor-coach. “Have you found the answer Gordon?” asked the Mad Tram.

“After all this chaos,” concluded Gordon, “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what my answer was! Surely one of you know it.”

“Of course we don’t know the answer!” replied the Mad Tank Engine, “If we knew, why would we ask in the first place? We ask it because it’s the only thing left to talk about here!”

“Oh bother! What a waste of time!” fumed Gordon. “We have all the time in the world, given our situation!” reminded the Mad Tram.

“Right,” said Gordon the who-might-be-a-tad-mad engine, “it’s always the time to return to your sheds for you lot.”

“What time?! I’m out of time!” a familiar voice rang out as the hasty rabbit, Percy, puffed in onto the turntable and popped in and out of berths. 

“Ah, Percy Rabbit!” greeted the Mad Tank Engine, “There’s always time here, come join us!”

“Sorry Mad Tank Engine, I’m afraid that I’m always late, I have to catch up with Time,” The saddle-tank finally found the exit out of the hat of sheds and chuffed away, “Goodbye! I’m late, I must hurry away!”

“Percy! Wait up!” Gordon called out as he puffed onto the turntable. 

“No room! No room-” “For the last time, there is-” Gordon’s own protest was cut short when the turntable sprang up to the top once again. “No room at the top…” He deadpanned before seeing the path where Percy was racing down on. When he was lowered to ground level at last, Gordon raced out to find Percy. Alas, the tender engine was too late and missed Percy yet again.

“How wonderful! That blasted little engine got away again!” Gordon muttered angrily. If it weren’t for the Duck, he’d be shrinking. 

He could hear the Mad Tank Engine and the Mad Tram caroling again in the distance. “I have had enough of their madness.” Gordon spat as he decided to move on.

He did like the idea of not needing tracks. Once Gordon mastered the ability, it became more convenient to move around. The downside is that Gordon was used to relying on tracks, his memory or some sort of path to guide him. After some time, he realised that he had neither of those things to find his way.

Gordon felt like such a silly engine indeed. He chased Percy only to complain like a foolish engine and got lost in this bizarre place and put through trials and tribulations of madness and nonsense.

“If I hadn’t followed Percy here, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” sulked Gordon.

“Who?”

“Me. I’m the one who followed him.” He replied

“Who?”

“A green tank engine with rabbit ears, a tail, and a pocket watch.”

“Who?”

“Percy, I just mentioned him.”

“Who?”

“A green tank engine with rabbit ears, a tail, and a pocket watch, you didn’t pay attention. I’m having a conversation with you and you barely paid attention.” Gordon had enough of this little banter. He couldn’t have a moment to scold himself in peace!

“Who?”

“I’m talking to you!”

Whoever thought mocking Gordon in his time of defeat must have had a lot of nerve.

“Why didn’t you say so?” A green owl appeared out of the dark, surprising the engine. “Pardon the confusion, I was speaking in ‘Owl Dialect’, I normally talk to myself and other thoughts. What seems to be the matter?”

It was only the Bicker-Owl, sitting on a branch next to the blue engine. But that realisation didn’t give Gordon any relief.

“Other than chasing after some ‘rabbit’ and getting lost in here, everyone and everything here is all mad! Nothing makes sense in this world, and I’m the most sensible engine back on Sodor! I’m a Gordon after all! I wouldn’t be a Thomas or a James or a Percy and certainly not a Henry.”

“Well then, I’d rather not be a Gordon, I’d rather be a Henry.” replied the Bicker-Owl

“Why not?! Being a Gordon is a grand life back on Sodor!” Gordon retaliated

“Not if you’re living in Wonderland, where no place called ‘Sodor’ exists. It sounds like being a Gordon in Wonderland is a dreadful experience indeed, from your words of course. And I myself live in Wonderland. I suppose the ‘Henry’ that you say would be ‘odd’ in ‘Sodor’ would be fitting in Wonderland quite well, or at least fitting in better than a big engine like you. Simple logic really.”

Gordon was stunned. When the Bicker-Owl explained it, it all made sense, making Gordon feeling even more foolish than he did before.

“Well, then I’d like to leave this ‘Wonderland’,” pouted Gordon, “There’s nothing wonderful about this place anyway.”

“What about Percy Rabbit? You’ve been chasing him this entire time, were you not?” “Who cares! I’d like to go home!” grunted Gordon, although it was more of a whine than a grunt.

“I can tell you where to find Percy Rabbit, and he’ll be able to get you home depending on the circumstances.” answered the Bicker-Owl, who either teleported to the branch above him or moved without Gordon noticing. It’s not like Gordon cared about that anymore.

“He can?” “Of course,” said the Bicker-Owl, “If he’s what got you to Wonderland, Percy Rabbit can surely get you out of it. But you’ll need to hurry. The quicker you find him, the quicker you can get home.”

At last, there was some hope for the blue tender engine. “Well, which path should I take this time to find Percy?”

“Some go this way, and some go that way,” the Bicker-Owl flapped its wings as it flew through the vegetation mimicking Ballahoo tunnel, with Gordon hesitantly following him, “But I personally recommend this short-cut.” 

When Gordon emerged out of the forest, an enormous castle out of cards from a game humans would play - even though Gordon didn’t understand said game very well - standing grandly in the distance with a hedge maze surrounding the monument.

“You go ahead, this is not my territory.” The Bicker-Owl disappeared but Gordon couldn’t care less. He puffed forward in hopes of finding this ‘Percy Rabbit’.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Bloopydoo for editing and proofreading!


End file.
